


timeless & colorblind

by luckyday



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Old Together, Hair Dyeing, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Long Time Frame, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckyday/pseuds/luckyday
Summary: Minho rather likes Jisung's natural hair. Despite how good Jisung looks with all sorts of bright colors, there's something familiar about Jisung with his black hair. Sure he only really has it when he's at school, but Minho appreciates it whenever he does have it.The older they get the more Minho finds himself comforted by it. It's a silly thought, one he can't exactly rationalize to himself.-Or, the one where no matter how old they are, Minho loves Jisung with any hair color. (But he definitely plays favorites.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 11
Kudos: 222
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	timeless & colorblind

**Author's Note:**

> written for colourful autumn aka the minsung season 2020 fest with the color theme being **BLACK AND WHITE**. check out the event page on twitter [@minsungseason](https://twitter.com/minsungseason)
> 
> a gross little fluffy domestic piece on growing older and growing together for the birthday boy and his soulmate ♡ title stolen from "sleeping beauty" by epik high and end of the world

For as long as Minho has known him, Jisung's always been fascinated with the idea of dyeing his hair. 

Of course, it's not like Jisung could actually do anything about his hair at first. They had school dress codes to deal with so for years Jisung was all talk. Still, it never stopped him from chatting Minho's ear off about all the colors he wanted to try when he got the chance— how he'd beg his mom to let him dye his hair even just for the next break they have from school. 

It's fine. Minho likes listening to Jisung talk, even if he just says a lot of the same things over and over again. That's just how the two of them are, how they've always been. They could tell each other the same stories for the rest of eternity and each time it would still be just as interesting as the first. 

When Jisung first gets to dye his hair, it's shortly after the end of his first year of high school. On the condition that he dyes it back before he goes back to school and that Minho supervises him, Jisung's mom finally gives in. 

"Do you think it'll look good?" Jisung asks, nervously picking at the hole in his jeans as he tries his best to sit still. 

"You might look like an old man," Minho tells him as he works the dye into Jisung's hair. He's never actually dyed hair before, even his own, but at least there's something to be said about how Jisung's mom trusts Minho to dye her youngest son's hair without messing it up too much. 

He's facing Jisung's back as he works so he can't see his face, but Minho knows Jisung is pouting judging by the little whine he makes. "Don't say that! What if it really does look bad?" 

Relenting to his best friend's nervousness, Minho reassures, "It's fine, it's fine. I'm sure it'll look good. Why'd you choose gray of all things anyway?" 

"Silver," Jisung corrects quickly, and Minho rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah. Surely there are other colors that are more flashy you'd like to try? I know for a fact I heard you say you wanted to try blue." 

"I do," Jisung says, sounding defensive. "And... I don't know. It just seemed like it would be cool. Everybody always seems to dye their hair blue the first time they do something weird with their hair, so... I wanted to try something else." 

Minho just hums at that. Then he smirks. "Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with that singer you like dyeing his hair si—" 

"Shut up!" Jisung whispers— or tries to whisper, coming out more of a hiss than anything else. He twists a little bit in the chair he's sitting in to look up at Minho, his cheeks dusted pink. "My mom's still home!" 

"Sorry," Minho apologizes, running his fingers through Jisung's hair in what's less like trying to work the dye in and more like he's petting a cat in what he hopes is a comforting manner. 

And it's not like it's ever really been a secret that Jisung likes guys. It's the same way it's never really been a secret that Minho likes them either. They've been friends since they were little, it's just something that they both clued in on about each other over the years. 

Minho does have to wonder how obvious it is to everyone else. He thinks there's a good chance his parents figured it out, although it seems like they're waiting for him to come to them first. He's not super worried about it, but it hasn't exactly been a priority to him. He likes his privacy and his parents have always been understanding of that. A relief, really. 

He's not too sure about whether or not Jisung's parents have their suspicions, but Younghyun definitely knows his little brother isn't straight. He teases Jisung gently about boys, although it's always playful. Careful not to do it where their parents can hear. Jisung's parents seem open-minded, but Minho can't exactly blame Jisung for being too anxious to talk to them about it. 

Either way, it doesn't really matter. They speak in hushed voices about celebrity crushes and how they wish the other guys they knew weren't so painfully straight. Minho tells Jisung about his first kiss with a boy from his dance classes and Jisung complains about how jealous he is and how he wants his first kiss already too. 

All that really matters is they both know and understand each other. Everyone else is secondary. 

An hour later Jisung steps out of the bathroom with fluffy still-damp gray hair and a big dumb smile. It doesn't have the same metallic shine as the idol crush Jisung was inspired by, but he seems ecstatic nonetheless. 

_And he looks cute with it,_ Minho thinks fondly. 

He sleeps over that night, worming his way into Jisung's bed beside him and playing with his hair until they both fall asleep. 

\---

Much to Minho's amusement, once Jisung gets permission to dye his hair it seems like he just doesn't stop. As long as he's on a break from school, Minho knows for sure that Jisung will call him over to help him do something stupid to his hair. Either that or Jisung will just show up outside Minho's house with a new color and a silly grin. 

It's fun. A little game he likes to play where he guesses what color Jisung will go next. And when school comes back and he inevitably dyes it black again, it feels like a clean slate. 

Not that the black is boring. Minho rather likes Jisung's natural hair. Despite how good Jisung looks with all sorts of bright colors, there's something familiar about Jisung with his black hair. Sure he only really has it when he's at school, but Minho appreciates it whenever he does have it. 

The older they get the more Minho finds himself comforted by it. It's a silly thought, one he can't exactly rationalize to himself. 

\---

"How does it feel to be college-ready?" Minho asks him the night before Jisung's classes for his first year start up. 

"Awful. Nerve-wracking." Jisung says dully, reaching up with one hand to muss his still-damp hair, fresh from having dyed it to black from the brassy red he had for the past month. Technically that was the excuse for Jisung coming over to Minho's apartment, although really it was just because Minho knew Jisung would need the moral support. 

They’re sitting out on the balcony together, the wind gentle but crisp. Minho rarely uses the balcony at all— even being close to the walled edge of this makes him nervous— but on such a nice night, he figured it would be good to pull out the foldable chairs and set them out there. Even if they’re practically pressed against the sliding door, as far away from the edge as possible. 

Still, it’s a nice night. A beautiful night. The moon is round and full overhead and, most importantly, Jisung is here with him. 

“You’ll be fine,” Minho tells him, taking a sip from the peach soda he bought on his way home from picking up Jisung. 

Jisung just makes a noncommittal noise, seemingly not convinced. “If you say so.” 

“When have I ever been wrong?” Minho challenges. 

“All the time!” Jisung says in disbelief, looking at Minho like he’s crazy. “Hyung, you once told me that mayo and bananas worked well on a sandwich together—” 

“And you believed me,” Minho points out, waving it away. Amused at the memory, he adds, “Somehow.” 

Jisung just squints at him. 

“Okay, well, this is different than me telling you something as a joke and you believing me.” Minho shakes his head. “You’re actually going to be fine. I know you get nervous but you have nothing to worry about, honestly. You’re smart— maybe a little gullible, but smart.” 

“Thanks, hyung,” Jisung says dryly, and Minho gives him a thumbs-up; the ultimate show of support possible. 

Then Jisung sighs, loud and deep. He lets his head fall back, hair falling off his forehead as his eyelids flutter shut, delicate eyelashes kissing his cheeks. There’s a little outside lamp out on the balcony but Minho decided to leave it off when they came out here. Instead, it’s only silvery moonlight that illuminates the curves of Jisung’s face. It makes his face look absurdly soft. Delicate, even. Like a fresh dumpling. (But maybe Minho’s just hungry for the takeout they’re waiting on.) 

No, Jisung’s awfully pretty tonight— despite the stress he’s under. Minho likes the way Jisung’s shoulder relax like somehow their playful bickering has at least let him set aside some of his anxieties about tomorrow. Minho likes the way he can do that; put Jisung’s overactive mind at ease with just some silly nonsense back and forth. He’s not really one for serious words, but Jisung knows him well enough to know how he tries to express affection. 

_He’s awfully pretty all the time,_ Minho thinks absently, eyes tracing up the curves of Jisung’s cheeks and to his hair. It’s still damp and messy, but it makes him look cute. Kind of like a puppy. Minho might be a cat person, but if all puppies were like Jisung he thinks that wouldn’t be bad at all. 

Minho reaches out and ruffles Jisung's hair, fingers pale in the moonlight as they slip through the black strands. Jisung’s hair is unbelievably soft, a miracle given how often he dyes it. It pulls a smile to Minho’s lips as he cards his fingers through it. 

"What's that for?" Jisung asks in amusement, looking at Minho with a raised eyebrow. 

"Nothing," Minho says, because that's true. There's no reason to be so fond of Jisung. But he is. 

Realization doesn’t come in a soul-shattering, world-spinning moment for Minho. It comes in the warm darkness of the night, creeping to the front of Minho’s mind quietly as he watches the way Jisung’s black hair slips through his fingers and how Jisung subconsciously leans into his touch. It comes as Jisung’s eyes flutter shut, like the feeling of Minho’s hand is the most comforting thing in the world. 

He’s awfully in love with his best friend, Minho realizes. It’s not a terribly shocking thought, although not one he expected to get tonight. Or ever, really. But looking at Jisung now, it’s hard to deny the way something flutters in his stomach and how badly he wants to spend the rest of the night running his fingers through Jisung’s hair. 

And Jisung lets him do just that. It’s nothing unusual for them, really. How many times have they fallen asleep like this over the years? Minho can’t be sure. But it’s such an odd feeling, realizing he loves Jisung and then going about their evening like always. 

_Maybe it’s because I’m so focused on keeping Jisung calm before his first day of college?_ Minho wonders to himself as Jisung drools all over his arm later that night. 

But no, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s just easy. It’s easy the way everything about him and Jisung always has been. 

\---

And their relationship _is_ easy, in more ways than one. 

Maybe that’s why it’s not surprising to Minho that a year later the confession slips from Jisung’s lips casually, no heartfelt speech or extravagant gestures. Just the two of them stood in Minho’s kitchen reading the takeout menus trying to decide on dinner. 

“Hyung,” Jisung says, cheek resting on Minho’s shoulder as he reads the leaflet Minho’s holding. 

Minho just hums in acknowledgment. 

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Jisung asks, and Minho just blinks. 

“I guessed,” he says slowly. 

“Oh,” Jisung says. Pause. Then, “What about you?” 

Minho thinks. There’s probably a good way to express how he feels to Jisung, to explain the depth of the emotions he feels for him both as his best friend and someone he’s held romantic feelings for since— well, he’s not sure. Maybe always. He could tell Jisung about how he thinks those two things are irreversibly tangled together, how it’s possible his feelings for Jisung colored the entirety of their relationship without him even realizing it. 

Instead, Minho just says, “Me too.” 

Because why waste words like that? He knows Jisung. He knows their relationship. There’s no need for any of that, really. He’s sure Jisung feels the same as he does. Wordy emotional drivel has never been how they are, not really. No purple prose needed, just clear-cut black and white answers. 

He’s still looking down at his menu, but he feels the way Jisung’s cheek lifts into a smile as it’s pressed against his shoulder. “Good.” 

“Good,” Minho echoes, finding himself smiling as well. “Now tell me what you want off this before I order something for you.” 

\---

“Hyung,” Jisung says one night over dinner, the two of them sitting on the couch with a movie playing, “what’s my best color?” 

“What?” Minho says around a mouthful of rice, blinking in surpirse at the question. Swallowing it down, he asks, “What do you mean?” 

‘What hair color do you think I look best with?” Jisung gestures up to his hair with the hand not holding chopsticks. 

"You look good in anything," Minho tells him. The answer is easy because it's the truth, no flattery required. Jisung is the kind of person who could dye his hair any color, wear practically anything and pull it off somehow. Lucky for him, considering Jisung's taste in style is often something... a little lacking. But he's Jisung, so it doesn't matter. 

Jisung just rolls his eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, but I want an actual answer." 

"I am rather good at flattery," Minho admits, smiling at him. "This wasn't flattery though. You really do look pretty with anything." 

Jisung's smile falters, a funny look flashing across his face. Then he coughs, turning away from Minho. "Well... thanks." 

"No problem," Minho says, amused as Jisung's sudden bashfulness. For all that Jisung begs for praise and validation, it's awfully endearing how quickly he gets flustered when he actually gets it. 

Reaching up to touch the back of his neck, Jisung clears his throat again before asking, "But you have to have a favorite hair color on me still, right? Even if you think I look good with anything?" 

Minho hums thoughtfully at that, leaning back against the couch and tilting his head up so he's staring at the ceiling. "Mmm... I mean, I like your blonde. You always look good with it no matter what, especially when you let your hair grow out." 

Jisung snorts at that, making Minho drop his eyes back down to him. A stupid smile is on his face. "What did you say about that hairstyle forever ago? That I looked like an American surfer from the movies or whatever?" 

Minho barks out a laugh. "Yeah and I stand by that too." 

"So is that your answer?" Jisung asks. "You like my blonde the best?" 

He does love Jisung's blonde. It suits him. There are times where Minho forgets Jisung's not a natural blonde with just how well he pulls it off. 

Before he can confirm that's his favorite, the memory of Jisung out on the balcony flashes in his mind, the moonlight spilling down onto them where they sat. How beautiful and otherworldly Jisung had seemed with his black hair that night. How it had made something finally click in Minho’s head. 

Something flutters in Minho's stomach. 

"Actually," Minho says slowly, eyes falling down to his jeans and the stray thread on the seam on his knee. He reaches for it, picking at it and hoping that whatever the damn fluttering is, he isn't blushing. "I think... I think your black hair is my favorite." 

At that, Jisung visibly straightens in shock, eyebrows raised and lips parted when Minho glances up at him. "What? My black hair? That's so boring, though." 

"You look nice," Minho explains rather lamely, because he doesn't know how else to explain how the memory of Jisung in the moonlight when he first realized he had feelings for his best friend without sounding... rather gay. 

Yeah, they’ve been dating a couple of years now. Yeah, he still gets embarrassed admitting anything sappy to Jisung. Whatever. 

"I look nice," Jisung repeats slowly, frowning at Minho. "But you just told me that I look nice with anything? So how is this different?" 

"It just is," Minho says dismissively, clearing his throat. "Because I said so." 

"You sound like my Mom," Jisung complains, and Minho instinctually reaches up to flick Jisung's forehead, earning a loud and exaggerated yelp of pain. "What the fuck?" 

"Don't say that like it's a bad thing," Minho chides. "Your mother is lovely." 

And she is, especially about their relationship; a giant relief to both of them but mostly Jisung. Maybe not as overinvested in their relationship as Minho’s parents, but she’s been good to both of them since Jisung finally worked up the courage to tell her. 

"You only say that because she likes you more than she does me." Jisung elbows Minho playfully. "I swear, you should've heard her yesterday asking when I'd bring you over next time I went home for dinner." 

"When _are_ you going to bring me over?" Minho counters, elbowing him right back before reaching over to snag a dumpling off Jisung’s plate in retaliation. He lets him. 

"When you tell me why black is your favorite color on me," Jisung answers simply. 

Minho rolls his eyes. "Right, right. I change my answer then. My favorite hair color on you is nothing at all! I think you should go bald next." 

Jisung gasps in what sounds like genuine offense. "You're sick! Don't wish that on me— if I start to go bald early you get to pay to fix it!" 

"I'm simply not responsible for anything your body decides to do," Minho counters. "Pay for it yourself." 

Pouting, Jisung suddenly reaches out to wrap his arms around one of Minho's before dramatically throwing himself against Minho's side. Minho startles at the sudden touch, stiffening briefly and tightening his grip on his plate as Jisung nuzzles his arm like a cat loving up on him. 

"Hyung," Jisung whines loudly, "just tell me why you like black on me so much! I want to know!" 

Minho lets out a huff of laughter at that, shoulders relaxing as he looks down at Jisung, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He's really cute. 

"You're just very handsome with it," Minho relents, because he truly doesn't know how else to explain it without spitting out some kind of sappy shit along with it. "I don't know what else to say, Jisung. I think you look... nice, but it's different than you usually do with dyed hair. You look more mature, I guess. But softer too?" 

He shakes his head. There really isn't a good way to explain it short of _I'm gay and you're very pretty and it makes my heart race thinking about when I realized I was in love with you and you had black hair in that moment. Even if we’ve been together a while now it’s still a memory I treasure dearly, even if it was just a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of our shared story._

And it's not exactly like he wants to say any of that outright. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. 

Minho fully expects Jisung to argue with him over the admittedly lackluster answer, but instead he finds Jisung is strangely quiet. What had been a pouty, slightly-mischievous face before has shifted into a strangely thoughtful one. As if Minho actually said anything of value as opposed to the reality of him speaking out of his ass rather gayly. 

Finally, Jisung says, "Okay. I'll tell my Mom you want to come next time." 

Minho's eyebrow shoots up. "What? Really? That was good enough?" 

Jisung hums softly, sitting up and looking at Minho with a smile. "Well, you just told me how you felt, right? And you don't really know why you feel like that beyond it just seeming nice to you, so that's honest enough for me. Besides... I told you earlier, flattery will get you everywhere." 

“You’re that easy to win over?” Minho asks with amusement. 

“Just with you,” Jisung tells him with sparkling eyes. “Anyways, you could just tell me it’s because you think I’m ultra sexy with black hair if that’s the real answer. It’s okay hyung, be honest.” 

Minho just laughs at that, leaning over to steal a kiss. _That’s close enough_ , he thinks fondly. 

\---

The real answer does eventually come out, but not until ten years in when Minho gets particularly tipsy at one of Felix’s New Year’s parties. He sways in Jisung’s arms not long after midnight, lips pressed against Jisung’s neck as he whispers his confession to his fiance like it’s his most precious secret. And in a way it is. 

Jisung just laughs, reaching up to pet Minho’s hair and tell him he’s cute. Flustered, Minho tucks his face further into Jisung’s neck and wraps his arms around his waist. 

And later Jisung teases him about it, of course, much to Minho’s embarrassment. But he doesn’t miss the way Jisung keeps his hair black more often— or the way Jisung casually mentions he’ll keep it black for their wedding. 

“I do look best like that, anyway,” Jisung tells him as they look at cakes, arms loosely linked together. A small smile sits on his face. 

Minho can hardly argue with him. 

\---

“I need hair dye,” Jisung blurts out to Minho a few years later, a black cap on his head. “We should stop somewhere to pick something up after we drop Haeun off at school.” 

Minho just raises his eyebrow, in the middle of packing a boxed lunch for the little girl in question. “I thought you said you were mostly done dyeing your hair?” 

Jisung just clears his throat, mumbling something under his breath that Minho just can’t quite catch. 

“What’s that?” He asks, glancing up at Jisung again. “You have to speak up.” 

Jisung just mumbles something again— but this time Minho clearly hears the words _gray hair_ in the middle of it. 

“You have a gray hair?” Minho repeats in surprise, eyebrows raising as he sets the boxed lunch back down on the table. 

“Okay, well, you don’t have to say it so loud,” Jisung hisses, glancing around as if they aren’t alone in their own home with only their daughter, who isn’t even in the room because she’s busy getting ready for school. 

“Is that why you’re wearing a hat inside?” Minho asks, a note of amusement creeping into his voice. He reaches over and plucks the hat right off of Jisung’s head, his husband immediately whining in protest. 

Jisung looks positively mortified, his cheeks flushed red as he reaches up to cover his hair with his hand. "Don't look!" 

Minho just laughs, setting the hat down on the counter and reaching out to take Jisung's hand in his. Jisung resists for only a moment before he lets Minho move it, although obviously reluctantly. "Don't get embarrassed. We're getting older. It was bound to happen to one of us eventually." 

"But I'm younger than you!" Jisung whines, and Minho can't help the stupid fond smile that spreads across his face as he threads his fingers with his husband's. "And— and I’m not even old! I don’t even turn forty for a few more years! This isn't fair." 

"I always liked you with your silver hair," Minho tells him, only making Jisung pout more. The years haven't changed anything in that regard. Jisung is still the poutiest man he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. “Just think of it as permanent silver hair dye.” 

"But my black hair was your favorite," Jisung mumbles bitterly. "I might be getting older, but I still remember that." 

Minho just smiles in amusement. It's true. No matter how off-handed the comment about Jisung's black hair being his favorite had been or the stupid drunken confession of why, Jisung's remembered that for all these years. Sure, he's still dyed his hair as he pleased— although not so much in recent years, ironically because he worried about it damaging his hair now that he was getting older— but Jisung undeniably started keeping his black hair around for much longer stretches of time before finally settling into it for the past five years or so. 

Black hair was definitely Minho's favorite on Jisung, that's true. But if all their years together have taught him anything, it's that Jisung is just his favorite in general. 

So he lifts Jisung's hand, pressing his lips against the back of it. "I love you in any color. Red, blonde, blue, black. I love you with streaks of gray and I'll love you when your hair is all white as well." 

‘You absolute sap,” Jisung accuses, voice hoarse as he looks at him. His cheeks are dusted a rosy pink. “Where did you pull that out from? Why do you only do that once a year?” 

“It hits you harder that way,” Minho says with a little laugh. Also because serious words still don’t come very easy to him, but hey— when they do, at least he gets to see Jisung get all worked up over it. 

“Awful,” Jisung tells him. 

“Besides,” Minho says, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure their daughter isn’t around to hear them. Satisfied with the sound of running water in the bathroom that means she’s brushing her teeth, Minho leans forwards to press a kiss to Jisung’s cheek before murmuring, “I think you’ll be sexy as my silver fox husband.” 

Jisung chokes on a laugh, reaching up to smack his shoulder. “You’re getting ahead of yourself!” 

But he seems less embarrassed now, much to Minho’s relief. 

“Do you think I should still get the box dye?” Jisung asks thoughtfully, and Minho hums. 

“Whatever you want, dear,” Minho says, the endearment slipping off his tongue without much of a thought. Even after years of being together— marriage and a daughter, even— endearments don’t come often from him. But sometimes with Jisung he’s just so fond, it’s so easy for them to slip out. 

Jisung’s face colors slightly at the word, weakly hitting his shoulder again. “You’re starting to sound like your parents.” 

“I don’t use nicknames nearly as much as them,” Minho argues, still holding Jisung’s hand in his. 

“You’re on your way to it,” Jisung tells him, shaking his hand free and clearly holding back a smile— and failing. He leaves Minho at the kitchen counter, disappearing into the bathroom and speaking loud enough that he knows Minho will hear it. “Haeunie, let’s hurry up. Dad’s being sappy again.” 

_“Again?”_ Minho blurts out in disbelief at the same time he hears Haeun squeal in mock disgust. “Don’t tell our daughter lies, Jisung—” 

“If we don’t go now he might try to give you kisses!” 

_“Jisung.”_

They end up skipping the store on their way back, and the hair dye along with it. 

_That’s okay,_ Minho thinks fondly as they walk home together after dropping Haeun off, hand in hand. He lets his eyes settle on the soft curves of his husband’s face and that one stray bit of silver sticking out under his hat. 

Any color is good as long as it’s Jisung. 

**Author's Note:**

> >   
> There’s no coming home when you’re not there  
> Cause together is alone when we‘re not a pair  
> Girl, my love is timeless and colorblind  
> I will love your black, love your brown and your white hair the same  
> Be it sun or rain  
> Be it shame or fame  
> My name will be yours
> 
> ☆ twitter: [LlNOHAN](https://twitter.com/LlNOHAN)  
> ☆ curiouscat: [lunarminho](https://curiouscat.me/lunarminho)


End file.
